The Shadow Game
by GBlackwell
Summary: Seto Kaiba doesn't care where he is or even what the rules of this mysterious "Game" are. All he knows is that he will kill the stranger, no matter how powerful he is or what unnervingly familiar face he had borrowed... (Takes place after canon, slight AU, contains language and possible character death).
1. Chapter I

**Warning: I have not watched the entire Yu-Gi-Oh! Series, and thus do not know everything about canon. Therefore, there will likely be inconsistencies with canon, especially as the magic is concerned, since I've kind of created my own idea for how the "magic" in this story works, without knowing what the rules of magic are in the original series.**

**Because of these likely inconsistencies, I will beg the reader's indulgence and label this a slight "AU."**

**Why am I writing fanfiction for a show I haven't even completely seen, don't know well enough to justify writing for, and don't like nearly as much as its fans do?**

**Because shut up.**

**Please enjoy the story.**

* * *

_**The Shadow Game**_

* * *

Now

* * *

It was Domino City if someone had cut the place into jigsaw pieces and scrambled them so that nothing made sense. He could recognize street corners sticking out, chunks of road leading nowhere, buildings in halves, split and rearranged. Overhead rippling dark clouds smothered the sky. There should not have been any light to see by, and yet he had no trouble making out the shapes in the darkness.

It wasn't nighttime. Nighttime was an impermanent darkness; this was far more sustaining. There were no clocks working in that city, so he could not be clear about how many hours had passed. Still, he had walked to exhaustion, slept, woke up to walk more and repeated this process more times than he could count, and still the same darkness remained.

When he finally saw him, the one he was looking for, he felt nothing. He should have felt something: the elation of a hunter when viewing his prey, maybe, or scalding rage of delayed vengeance rising up in his heart. Instead, there was nothing.

Still, his will was still there, even if his emotions had shut down temporarily. He raised his gun and aimed.

His target faced him in the distance, and grinned.

"Hello, Kaiba."

* * *

Then

* * *

Of course he had noticed when Yugi Moto stopped showing up for school. He would never call the "Game King" his friend but he'd have to be an idiot not to notice his absence in school, especially when it was coupled with the pitiful expressions on his friends' faces.

He was curious, perhaps even concerned. Still, every time the thought of approaching the group and asking what had happened to Moto crossed his mind, his mood soured. The gesture would have been pointless, yet something still pulled at him, making him want to find out. Ultimately, he brushed the thought aside.

He heard from Mokuba, eventually: Yugi had been hospitalized due to some unexplained seizure. And then he'd been kept out of school by their continuation. Unfortunately, the seizures had increased to nearly twenty a day, all leaving him shaking and helpless for nearly ten minutes at a time. He was staying in the hospital because, as his grandfather had passed away a few months back, there was no one else capable of administering the intensive care and supervision such a condition required.

He'd been in the hospital a few days. If the condition didn't improve, they'd move him to a home of some sort with a personnel equipped to deal with those problems.

Kaiba had nearly gone to the hospital when he heard. Mokuba knew what he was thinking.

"You should go see him, brother," he had said. "He'd really appreciate it. Joey, Tristan and Tea… they all visit, but he's still alone most of the day. It's really hard on him."

It was Mokuba's suggestion that ultimately made him go. But the thought of just going with nothing was rank with all the self-serving pity he despised from such gestures. He'd always hated those who would visit a sick acquaintance simply to satisfy social norms.

So instead he marched into the hospital with purpose. Yugi was sitting up in the hospital bed, eyes barely open.

"Mr. Moto," the nurse said, "This is Seto Kaiba. He says he's a friend of yours…?"

The boy nodded. "Hello, Kaiba," he said, his voice a bit faint. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Leave us," Kaiba told the nurse, and she did.

Kaiba marveled for a moment at how young and weak he looked, in spite of being of nearly eighteen now. His face was boyish enough for him to be thirteen, and his fragile stature didn't help. Now he looked even more pathetic than he normally did: the childish energy that normally lit up his face was replaced with fatigue. There was a dullness in his eyes, the strange dullness that accompanied the expression of one who had accepted a degrading situation.

It almost made Seto Kaiba's lip curl in disgust.

"I guess Mokuba convinced you to visit, huh?" the boy asked. The question should have been a bitter, passive-aggressive insult, but it wasn't. There wasn't any bitterness in Yugi Moto, frustratingly enough.

Kaiba looked at him. "How are you?" he asked, regretting it immediately. Such a common question, the exact same thing that any one of those hypocritical well-wishers he despised he would have said. Small talk, all following the same tired clichés, meaning nothing. He scowled at himself.

"Fine," Yugi smiled, the smile not reaching his eyes. "As good as you could expect, all things considered."

There were others things Kaiba might have said, but he didn't. He walked forward and narrowed his eyes, as though trying to get a better look at his rival. "I'm going to make this brief," he said finally, maintaining a businesslike tone. "I'm here to explain a few things to you. From now on, your hospital bills and any other treatment relating to this will be covered by Kaiba Corp. I've already located several specialists who'll likely have a better idea about this than those idiot doctors who have been examining you. You'll be examined and treated by them from now on."

"No."

"Once you're recover—what?" Kaiba blinked.

"It's very kind of you to offer," Yugi said, another empty smile on his face, "But I can't accept that."

Kaiba blinked again, processing this information. "You can't accept_," _he repeated. "Why is that?"

"Well, I don't want to owe you anything."

He scowled again. "I wouldn't ask for repayment."

"Then you're just giving out charity."

Kaiba eyed him. "You're saying you won't take charity. You. _You, _of all people, have a problem with charity." He almost laughed.

"Well, it's not that…"

Kaiba looked around, and something in the trash caught his eye. It was a Duel Monsters' deck.

"What's _that?" _

"Oh, that," Yugi said, "Well… I really haven't been playing Duel Monsters yet lately anyway. And… I probably won't be playing much in the future." He reached over and pulled the deck out of the trash. The trash was empty except for that article, so it wasn't dirty when pulled it out. "I'm sorry. I wasn't really thinking when I discarded it that way. There are other people who would want these cards, so… maybe I'll give them Joey. Or would you like them? Joey hasn't been playing as much lately, either…"

He held out the cards, his eyes the picture of child-like innocence. Kaiba was unpleasantly reminded of Little Nell and every other fictional child that would lay angelically on their death beds and leave the world with humble acceptance. He wanted to smack the cards right out of his hand, but restrained himself from doing so by clenching his fist.

"I think I'll have the brain specialist check your head twice," he replied.

"I don't know what you're saying," Yugi said, still holding out the deck.

"Are you refusing this because it's charity? Or because it's from me?"

Yugi sighed. "I'm not refusing it to spite you, Kaiba. I wouldn't do that. I've just… I've been thinking through some things. And I don't need examinations or… anything."

Seto Kaiba scoffed at this. "Keep your deck. I'll see about that brain specialist."

Yugi's smile faded. "I already told you. I said no."

Kaiba just eyed him for a moment. "Maybe the role of a drooling vegetable suits your future ambitions, Yugi, but I'll hardly stand for my rival to be reduced to a snotty mess, no matter how humble or noble you think 'accepting' such things is. Save it for after our rematch, if you're so determined to become useless."

"Kaiba…"

He turned away and opened the door. "The specialists will be arriving tomorrow," he said.

And he left.

* * *

None of the regular doctors afforded by Yugi's health insurance could find anything wrong with him. According to every scan, Yugi Moto was a perfectly healthy individual, and that those seizures shouldn't exist. The correct term for it, having no known cause, was "idiopathic."

Kaiba was certain that a better team would discover something. Or some more advanced scanning technology, perhaps. There had to be something overlooked; things like this didn't happen without reason.

He had a plan to get him to accept his help. It was simple: he'd have Mokuba tell Yugi's group about his offer. If he knew them well enough, they'd march over to the hospital immediately. Kaiba seriously doubted that he'd be able to hold out against the insistence of his friends.

The plan worked at least halfway: Yugi's friends had indeed marched to the hospital. Apparently they'd argued with him for an hour, with Téa Gardner going so far as to shout, plead, and half-jokingly threaten him into taking the money, so long as it might help him get better. According to Mokuba, Yugi had just looked down and mumbled something about "taking time to consider it."

Kaiba smirked to himself about the success of his plan.

The next day Téa Gardner went into her coma.

"_What?" _he asked Mokuba.

His brother sniffled. "No one knows how it h-happened, but… she's really... hurt."

Her legs were broken. Snapped and twisted for good measure. And even if that hadn't been damning there was a spinal injury that practically ensured paralysis. From what he'd heard. And with the head injury that put her in the coma, it was likely that even the dream of it had vanished.

Someone had attacked her, violently, and left her in an alleyway.

The only things she occasionally said in her sleep were "Yugi" and "Please help."

His stomach turned at the thought. Gardner was not a friend to him, not even a pleasant acquaintance… but he would hardly have wished that on her. There was a wrongness to the whole incident. It seemed unreal that something had happened to the group, even though he'd never been a part of it.

He heard about Yugi leaving the hospital afterward. Not because his mysterious condition was cured, either. Apparently he left because he said he couldn't afford it, and as long as he could physically walk out of the hospital they weren't allowed to keep him there against his will.

"It's not so bad," he said, smiling unconvincingly, "The seizures aren't usually violent. I just let them pass. They're getting less frequent. I can deal with it… for now."

He had expected to find his old rival bawling over the tragedy with Téa, or at least to see red-rimmed eyes. He saw no signs of grief, just a little more deadness in the eyes than there had been in the hospital. Kaiba wondered if maybe his friends had watered down the story for him.

He frowned, deciding not to comment on the issue of Gardner. "You'll never be employed with such a condition. You won't be able to run your grandfather's shop either. And how will you sustain yourself if you have no income?"

Yugi shrugged. "That's not really any of your business. I'll be fine."

"I'm going to offer one more time," Kaiba said, "And if you refuse again, that's it."

"My answer's still no."

* * *

Tristan went missing soon afterwards.

This time he heard almost immediately.

"This is getting fucking ridiculous," was the first thing he growled when Mokuba was out of hearing range.

It didn't take long for the suspicion to form in his mind. And when it did, he drove to Moto's house immediately. The door was answered not by Moto, but by Joey Wheeler.

"Er, Kaiba," the blond said.

"I'm here to talk to Yugi."

"Yeah, but he's… this really ain't a good time if you wanna talk…"

Kaiba came in anyway. Wheeler told him to wait a while: Yugi had had another seizure just as Wheeler was giving him the news, and Joey had had to put him in bed. In a few minutes he came down. He gave the same empty smile Kaiba had seen in the hospital. "Hello," he said, "You've been dropping by a lot."

The smile disturbed him.

"You've heard what happened to Tristan Taylor then?"

Yugi Moto nodded. The smile was still on his face, and Kaiba felt suddenly unnerved. It must be some kind of denial, he thought. He'd only learned of the most recent tragedy: it probably needed some time to sink in.

"It's possible that someone's targeting you," Kaiba said, "And that goes for both of you."

The empty smile disappeared.

"What?" Joey asked, "You mean someone's… what happened to Tristan and Tea was because they're targeting Yugi?"

"It's possible," Kaiba said. "If Taylor doesn't reappear, then I think we should at least consider the possibility."

Yugi's face showed no change.

"Well, I dunno if that's true," Joey said, "But we're gonna find Tristan, and he'll be fine. Right Yuge?"

The bond patted his friend's shoulder. The change that happened then was subtle, but unmistakable. The small young man's shoulders drew up imperiously and his expression shifted to one of hinted disgust. "No," he stated, "He won't be."

Kaiba had once believed Yugi Moto to have some kind of personality disorder; later, in spite of his skepticism, he'd come to accept that no, actually it wasn't a disorder. It was the soul of an ancient king inhabiting his body, as ridiculous as the notion seemed. It had taken him a while to accept... but after all that had happened, there was really little else that would explain it. He remembered the way the younger boy had shifted as he dueled back then, suddenly going from an awkward child to a mysteriously powerful presence.

He'd seen the shift enough to recognize it here. But it wasn't the voice of the Pharaoh that came out. It wasn't as deep, and its contempt surpassed anything he'd ever heard from either personality.

Wheeler flinched at the remark. There was a pause where they both waited for Yugi to apologize for the comment, as he most certainly would have in the past. The apology never came.

"I have to be alone now," the small, spiky haired boy said, "Please leave."

Joey was abashed. "You can't believe that," he said, "Hey, I know all this looks bad, but… we've gotten through worse right?"

Yugi turned away.

"Are you just going to ignore that you and Wheeler might be in danger?" Kaiba asked.

"I told you, I need to be alone," Moto replied, his voice dropping a bit, though not to the lowness of the Pharaoh's.

"Y-yeah, sure," Wheeler said, putting his hands in his pockets. "Whatever you need. But… you're not alone in this. You know that. And we _will _find Tristan. And Téa, she'll wake up." The blond's face contorted into a strange mix of anguish and determination. "We haven't come this far for it… I dunno, for it to just fall apart. You gotta believe that."

Yugi walked to the stairs and stopped. Kaiba thought he was going to say something, but instead he just stood there. Then Kaiba noticed the tremor in his hand. He fell over.

"Yugi!" Wheeler ran to his friend's side, "Oh God, no! Not another one… the last one just stopped… Jesus…"

Before his eyes, Kaiba's former rival was reduced to a helpless, shaking mass with glassy, unseeing eyes.

* * *

He decided it was mostly because of Mokuba that the atmosphere seemed to smother him. The recent strong of tragedies did not sit well with him, and wouldn't have under any circumstances, but he would have been able to shuffle the discomfort it brought him to the back of his mind if it weren't for the mood it brought down on his younger brother.

"Do you think they'll find Tristan?" Mokuba asked.

If he'd been anyone else, he would have lied in a desperate attempt to inspire some hope, however futile. Because he was who he was, he said, "No."

Mokuba nodded. "Do you think Téa will get better?"

"I'll have the best people in the medical field see to it, if you want."

Mokuba nodded again. "Yes," he said. "I mean… I didn't really know her all that well, but… it's just…" his face stiffened, "It's so horrible. Just… if you saw her you'd know what I meant."

He nodded, believing his brother.

"What about Yugi?"

"He's refused my help. I can't fund his treatment without his consent."

Mokuba gulped. "You really think that someone's… after them? Who would it be?"

"I don't know," he said. "But I already have people working on finding out."

When his brother left him, his thoughts turned to Moto's cold expression and the way he'd drawn up his shoulders. And then, immediately after, the seizure… a complete shift from the imposing to thoughtless vegtable… the shaking, twitching, crumbling up like a squashed spider…

They found Tristan Taylor later: starved, dehydrated, and catatonic.

* * *

When he got the report, he hardly believed his ears.

"Say that again," he told the investigator.

"Well… we have a recording. It's by someone who happened to be at the scene… took the thing, but didn't bother turning in the evidence without a reward. Fellow said he was confused, and didn't realize the significance of it until he saw a poster with Taylor's face on it... Anyway the recording shows… Yugi Moto was present at the area where Tristan Taylor was trapped for days."

Kaiba watched it, and a sense of wrongness overwhelmed him. There was indeed someone who looked and sounded a lot like Yugi: he had the hair and stature, at least, though he carried himself taller. Taylor's legs was lying on the ground of a secluded area in some kind of wilderness outside of Domino, perhaps an area used for hiking. His legs didn't seem broken in the recording, though that's what they had found when he was hospitalized later.

"_It hurts… Yugi… or whoever you are, please… call the police. Or an ambulance. I… can hardly take this."_

"_But you will," the figure that looked like Yugi Moto told him. "That's the game."_

"_So hungry… thirsty… water… please."_

He would have said it just some uncannily good imposter, one who could imitate Moto's voice almost perfectly. But at the end the figure turned and the camera caught his face. His features were familiar, even if their attitude was not. And the face that was once Yugi's smiled the same empty smile he'd seen in the hospital.

It was not Yugi. That was the first thing Seto Kaiba decided. And it couldn't be the Pharaoh; even if Yugi had still had the Puzzle, the Pharoah's spirit was not a match with this one.

He thought of the seizures, and suddenly wondered if that's what it looked like for one personality to struggle against another.

"I want you to break into Moto's home discreetly," he told the men, "And search for some kind of artifact, possibly related to something to ancient Egypt. Anything that looks suspicious you report to me."

They did break in while Moto was away. They found nothing, and Moto came early to find them there. His response, according to the men, was an unconcerned laugh and a fearless remark.

"Find anything you like?"

Kaiba frowned. He should probably tell Wheeler… no why should he? True, Wheeler might likely be endangered by this new personality, but… would he really listen to Yugi's old rival calling up to tell him that he'd likely been possessed and was inflicting all sorts of pain on his friends? Hell, how would one even start that conversation?

He dialed Wheeler's number anyway, planning his words as he listened to the phone ring.

There was no answer.

He needed to act, and fast. He needed answers about Yugi Moto, about what he'd been doing when the seizures started, about his behavior recently… there was an answer in this somewhere, and he had the feeling it had to do with some kind of ancient magic.

Wheeler never answered his phone. Kaiba was about to send someone to his house when his own phone started ringing. He answered it.

"Sir, it's…it's about Mokuba. He…"

Seto Kaiba's world spun.

* * *

He didn't even know what he was saying himself, but he knew he was shouting. He barely even knew where he was, or how he'd gotten there. The details all disappeared in a blur.

All he knew was that Mokuba was lying in a hospital bed before him, his face bruised nearly beyond recognition and most of his body in a cast.

He was saying that Mokuba needed to come home. They were saying he couldn't be moved, and he was screaming at them, saying that he'd rebuild the goddamn hospital in his home if that's what it took. They were trying to get him to leave, practically pulling him out…

And then a figure passing by the window: one with hair and stature it would have been impossible not to recognize. The figure spared him a single glance and then walked on.

Kaiba needed no more encouragement to remove himself from the hospital room.

He saw the figure disappear around the corner and soon he was stalking after in a cold fury. The figure practically seemed to disappear into the people walking through the hallway, but he managed to follow. The figure soon removed himself to the roof of the hospital, and Kaiba followed.

He found the small, spiky haired individual staring off the rooftop, looking over the city. The figure turned. "Hello," he said.

Kaiba didn't say anything, and the silence sunk in for a moment.

"I'm sorry about Mokuba," the stranger in a familiar body said.

"Not as sorry as you will be," he responded, his voice shaking with rage, "When I'm done with you."

The stranger looked surprised. "What do you mean?"

"You did this," he accused, every syllable threatening to explode. "You did this to him."

"I did nothing…."

"Don't _fucking _lie to me!" The entire world around him dissolved into white-hot anger, "All of Moto's friend have been hospitalized in the past week, and you-you were there!"

"I… don't…"

His hands were around the smaller man's throat, it seemed, though he hardly remembered lunging at him. "You were there with Taylor. Yugi would have helped, but not you… don't even try to deny it!"

Something struck his hands back with stunning power. The next thing he saw was that face, its usual innocent guise twisted into a sick grin.

"Well…" the stranger said, calm-sounding for someone who had just gotten out of a strangle hold, "I had a feeling you'd find that recording. You'll find I've done nothing illegal: there's no law against not helping someone, if I remember correctly."

"You've orchestrated it. All of it," he growled, "Mokuba… when he… I bet you were there…"

"If it will gratify you, then fine," the stranger replied coolly. "I admit. I was there. I saw the car accident that put your brother in the hospital. I sat there, and I saw him pounding his feeble hands against the limo door… and I did nothing." He shrugged. "If you really want to blame someone, though, I think the driver is more at fault. Though you might say that your brother would have a better chance for survival if I'd called an ambulance…"

This time he knew that he lunged at the stranger, but his target dodged as nimbly as a shadow. "Who are you?" he asked.

The stranger smiled patronizingly. "Why, don't you recognize me? I'm Yugi Moto. You've known me for years."

"Don't play games with me."

The stranger laughed. "Playing games… what else is this?" he stepped forward. "Answer me this: do I owe your brother anything more than I owed Tristan Taylor? Or Téa Gardner? Or Joey Wheeler? Really, are you so myopic that you'd think there's something I ought to do for your precious Mokuba that I don't owe to anyone else?"

Kaiba didn't respond, but he lashed out with all his might. The stranger dodged at every turn, even looking bored as he did so. Eventually, he gave up trying to strike the stranger, and instead stood there, catching his breath and rethinking, trying to find some way to hurt this person as he'd been hurt.

"You and you're brother isn't worth any more to this world than the people you despise," the stranger told him, "And the fact that you _think _he's irreplaceable to you doesn't make him more worthy of life or happiness. It's just your own folly that tells you that."

He barely registered this speech through his anger. His head swirled. There had to be something he could do, something, _something... _he couldn't lose.

"Now if you're wise, you'll forget all of this and devote your attention to your brother's possible recovery. If you think you can…"

The stranger didn't have a chance to finish, because it was then that Kaiba spoke. He didn't even know the words himself, or where he'd gotten them. They came from deep inside, as though they been buried in his memory and only ripped out now by his rage.

It was Ancient Egyptian.

And if he didn't understand the literal meaning of the words, he knew what the intent was.

The stranger stepped back, his eyes widening. "That spell…" he murmured, "You fool…."

Clouds blacker than night wrapped around the city.

* * *

Now

* * *

He kept his gun aimed, waiting, though he wasn't sure what for.

He'd had the gun ever since he'd entered that shadowy and broken Domino City, though he wasn't sure how. He didn't need to know, though, as long it would place a bullet between those eyes.

"Hello, Kaiba," the stranger repeated, glancing at the gun. "That won't do you any good here."

He fired. It was a perfectly aimed shot, but it missed. Suddenly the stranger was elsewhere, more to the right and close enough that he could see the hellish light in his eyes.

"I told you," the stranger said, "The game you started isn't that simple."

"Tell me who you are," he growled.

The stranger looked at him the way one looks a child who asks a question they are incapable of comprehending the answer to. "'Everything I've done, everything I've been,'" he said in a monotone, "'It can't have been for nothing. I won't let it be for nothing. Please.'"

Kaiba narrowed his eyes. "What?"

His adversary grinned. "Those are the words you say, before this is done. When the door to your own shadows has opened, and you regret ever calling upon this ritual."

And then the stranger was gone, vanished into the darkness of the twisted Domino City.

* * *

**Notes: **

**My logic basically this: Kaiba is the reincarnation of the High Priest, so he was able to invoke a Shadow Game when sufficiently enraged.**

**This "Yami" that's Kaiba's adversary… he's not the Yami from the series. He's closer to the one from season 0, if you've seen that, but even that isn't a perfect fit. I'll explain why later, if I ever finis this fic. Nevertheless, I'm putting him down as "Yami Yugi" on the character list for the stories, simply because that's the best way to describe him.**

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**


	2. Chapter II

**I am not happy with this chapter. I feel that it is a let-down from the pace of the previous one, and I feel like there's too much talking-exposition in it. Still, I'm too lazy to edit it another time.**

**Happy Reading.**

* * *

**The Shadow Game**

**Chapter II**

* * *

He woke to a screech ringing in his ears and fading in the distance. Something living, not human, some animal… maybe an eagle? He blinked, and found himself staring at the murky sky. His senses came back to him and he realized where he was: lying on his back in a gutter. He got up as fast as he could, which was to say, not very fast at all. He stumbled a bit, disoriented at getting up so quickly.

He didn't remember falling asleep in the first place. Hell, he didn't even remember sitting down.

Again, the screech. Or could he call it that? It was too deep for an eagle's call. He thought _roar _but realized it couldn't have been a lion's voice, or that of any similar animal: it lacked the scratchy, growling quality.

His feet moved without realizing it. He was… following? Investigating? He frowned, shaking his head as though the motion would clear the fog from his thoughts.

The city was empty, save for himself and the stranger. Not voice could be heard from the cracked windows of those disordered buildings. There were no footsteps on the streets besides his own. The stranger moved without a trace and without sound, like a shadow mocking him around every corner. Even the secondary signs of human inhabitation were gone.

The city was _empty._

But there was something, something besides the stranger, making that noise.

The sound died to his ears as he followed it. Still, he kept walking until the road he was on forced him to turn a corner. The stranger was there, turned away like he had been on the hospital roof top.

He knew that even an expert shot would inflict no damage. He'd tried it before, after all. So he fired the shots this time to get the bastard's attention.

The stranger faced him, but once Kaiba's eyes met his, there was no sign in there of being intimidated by the bullets flaying around his head. They stood there for a moment. Nothing was said, but to him the moment was noisy. His thoughts all scrambled, piling on top of each other, all scheming for ways to take down this opponent.

"When are going to stop this charade and face me?" he asked the stranger.

The stranger somehow managed a perfect mimic of Yugi Moto's expression when he was trying to gently explain something harsh. "That depends on you."

"You haven't been running away," Kaiba said mostly to himself. He knew what the stranger had been doing with this little wild goose chase; it was much too obvious. Still, he felt the need to say it out loud, as though to remind himself. "You been leading me… trying to get me to the right location for your own purposes."

The stranger shrugged. "You could say that. You make it sound like I'm leading you into a trap, though."

"What else could you call it?"

The stranger shrugged again. "Traps don't really work in this place," he explained, "If you can't with without deception, then you can't win. You have to use truth."

"Truth," Kaiba spat. "Then how about this truth? When are going to stop this and finally get to the duel? I'm tired of this running around."

The stranger sighed. "It's as simple as this, Kaiba. Nothing happens until you put your weapon down."

"This?" his hand tightened around the trigger. "And here I thought you were above being harmed by a mortal weapon."

"The problem isn't that it might hurt me. The problem is what it means to you, and how it prevents us from playing the game."

"How does it accomplish that, may I ask?"

The stranger was about to answer, but instead he just shook his head. "Kaiba, you must be one of the smartest people to never actually use his brain until he's absolutely forced to."

He blinked at the random change of topic. "What?"

"Always about power. Always trying to build superior force to smack down opponents. Force, in particular. Not an entirely bad thing, but once you get used to coming out victorious through such stiff means… once you get to the point where you think superior attack force is the only means of triumph…" he smiled a little, "Well, a stone is strong, but it does not grow."

"Cut the speeches," he growled.

"Very well. No speeches," his opponent's voice hardened, until it reminded him of the spirit that Yugi had called "Pharaoh." "Nothing happens," he repeated, "until you drop your weapon."

And with that ultimatum, the stranger vanished.

* * *

He thought he head that animalistic cry again, but his thoughts had clouded so much that it might have just been memory or imagination. In that place, it was nearly impossible to tell one from the other. In the corners of his eyes he would see figures and shadows—_people—_only to turn around and find nothing.

Still, he managed to keep on the stranger's trail. He ran to every street that the stranger walked on, trailed him around every corner. And his hand clung fast to his weapon, ready to fire at any time, to hell with whether or not it would actually do anything.

The stranger had just disappeared again into some ally. He ran after again, his head still dizzy with exhaustion and sounds that he wasn't certain he heard and shadows he wasn't certain he saw and…

…it wasn't the stranger in the alleyway.

"Hello," a cautiously friendly voice offered.

He aimed his gun. In front of him was a kid about the stranger's height, head shaved and bandaged and faced severely bruised. The child supported himself on crutches and flinched at the sight of him. His legs were so spindly he could have sworn the kid had never eaten in his life, and his cheekbones were so hollow that his eyes seemed to bug out.

"D-don't shoot!" the child said, shrinking away. "I don't… I'm not dangerous."

He narrowed his eyes. Some trick, he thought. If the stranger could wear one false face, what was to stop him from taking another? And this figure he saw before him was so pathetic that it seemed like a deliberate ploy for sympathy. He kept his gun raised.

"I thought you said this weapon wouldn't hurt you."

"What?" the kid blinked at him incredulously, "I don't even know you! When would I say that?!"

He wasn't buying it. "Really," he said, "You expect me to be taken in by this… this…?"

He didn't even know an appropriately derogatory term for such a pathetic trick, so instead he fired. The kid jumped, and stumbled with his crutches. The bullet had grazed his cheek, leaving some blood trickling down to his chin.

"What the…?_!" _the kid exploded. "What did I ever do to you?!"

He was about to laugh, and tell him that he'd seen through his little act. But instead someone stole the laughter from his lungs and he heard it behind him, echoing maniacally against the walls. He spun around, and found the stranger there behind him.

He turned over his shoulder to look at the kid, and then back at the stranger. Two different people. The realization his him like a punch in the gut: he'd almost shot a child.

He shot at the stranger again. Again, he realized the futility of the gesture, but the gun wasn't running out of ammo, so there was no harm in trying. The figure, of course, slipped away again.

"You thought I was _him?" _the kid behind him asked incredulously.

Guilt had to be the most useless emotion in the human experience. It was one of the many that he refused to submit to, regardless of whether he'd done anything wrong. Guilt didn't drive you forward, it weighed you down, held you back. It didn't empower, it crippled. So he stormed forward, straight after the stranger, not bothering to turn back and give the kid a second glance.

"Hey, wait!" the kid said behind him, "Wait! What are you doing?"

He heard the sound of the boy coming after him on crutches.

"You can't go after him," the kid babbled, "He's insane. And powerful. And insanely powerful. Are you stupid?"

He kept walking, still refusing to turn back.

"Wait, wait!" the kid's voice grew more distant as the child himself did, unable to keep up with his pace. "I need to… I need to ask you something! Stop!"

* * *

Around, around, around… every corner looked the same. He kept on, turning in different directions, but somehow ending up in an area that looked surprisingly similar to where he had started. At first he could see the stranger disappearing around every street, but as he continued, he lost sight of him.

He didn't stop. He didn't slow. No, the realization made him run forward with renewed, wrathful energy. Soon, the familiarities blurred around him. He let out a frustrated shout, just one. His head was boiling with frustration at his enemy and the world that seemed to be conspiring against him. If only he could have taken hold of the place and ripped it apart, atom by atom! Hatred for the silence, the darkness, and the twisted shape of the place well inside him until he could hardly see. Crowning it all was the hatred for the stranger and his goddamn borrowed face, and his cowardice, his refusal to face him, his…

"…ng to get anywhere. Stop…"

He didn't know how long the voice had been there, but he slowed, and turned to listen.

"…gets you stuck, tries to trap you forever by making sure you never try anything new. It tries to make you feel…" the voice stopped.

It was the crippled child he'd seen earlier, the one he'd shot at. The boy stood a few feet away from him, meeting his eyes with a wary determination.

"If you keep going on like that, you'll never get anywhere," the child said.

Kaiba narrowed his eyes. The kid shuffled and gulped a little under the weight of his glance, but refused to look away.

"Look," he said, "I know because I was stuck like you are now. You can be stupid and keep trying to solve your problem the same way even when it doesn't work… or you can be smart and explore other options."

He considered this for a minute. Then he grunted, and turned away.

"No, wait!" the kid shouted. "You're trying to kill him, right? Don't you think you should get information? Try to find out what he really is?"

He stopped. "And you know yourself?"

"No," the boy admitted. "But… I know people who might. People who've been here a long time… who have helped me out a few times."

Kaiba turned around again. The boy's expression reminded him of a look he'd seen on businessmen confident that the deal they offered was their potential client's best option. _If you don't accept, then you're an idiot who's going to ruin yourself. _He frowned.

"And you're offering to bring me to them?"

The kid raised his eyebrows. "Yes, if you do one little thing for me first…"

The condition. He had expected it, and was almost relieved to hear it. Nothing was more suspicious than an offer that claimed to come free, or out of the kindness of one's heart. "What is it?"

"I'm looked for someone," the boy said, "Someone in this realm. I have a picture," he shuffled, trying to reach his pocket while balancing on his crutches. "The picture's here. I just need to get it. He's just a bit taller than you, hair's a darker, shoulders bigger…"

The deal sounded good to him. Too good. He considered the possibility that the whole thing was some trap, but then the entire set-up was, so he shrugged. "I haven't seen anyone here besides yourself and that…" He stopped, realizing that he did not have anything to call the stranger. "…That man," he finished.

He got a close look at the kid for the first time. He had thought the boy was a child at first glance, but looking at him now, closely and in as much light as the city offered, he realized that wasn't the case. The young man was taller than he'd thought, but hunched over to seem small and starved to seem more frail and childish than he actually was. His eyes were wide and bright like a child's, sticking out of his malnourished face. Still, there was a maturity to his features, and a gravity behind their childlike quality.

"That man…" the young man repeated, "The one you wanted… I mean, still want to kill?"

He didn't even bother nodding, but the young man understood the implicit "of course."

"Um…" the crippled boy said, "Look, just… look at the picture I have. Tell me anything you know about the guy I'm looking for. If you haven't seen him, then swear to tell me if you ever find anything out. Then we'll be allies. I'll take you to the people I was talking about, and help you in any other way I can, so long as it doesn't interfere with my own search. If you don't…"

"Fine."

"You'll…?" the young man seemed surprised at his sudden acceptance.

Kaiba nodded in response.

"Okay," the boy shuffled, sitting himself down on a nearby crate and leaning his crutches against his lap. Then, he pulled out a picture. "Here it is. The man I'm looking for."

Kaiba walked forward and took the picture, which slid reluctantly out of the young man's grip. It wasn't a face that he thought he'd be likely to forget, or fail to recognize. There was a presence to the man in the photograph, a piercing gaze that seemed weighted with all of the hardships of life and yet uplifted with steely strength. The man's face would have been harsh and penetrating, if not for the smile on his lips which seemed to warm up his countenance the way a gentle fire would warm an iron stove. It turned the imposing features into something comforting, something that could be protecting and nurturing, fierce and caring.

"I don't know him," he told the young man, whose shoulders slumped. And it was the truth: he hadn't. Not in this realm or any other.

"Oh. Well… I had to try," the young man frowned.

Kaiba nodded, understanding the look of disappointment on his face.

"Well," the kid said, getting up, "I'll take you to the old woman. She's the easiest to find, and I think she's been here a long time, longer than me at least. She knows lots of stuff, helped me out when I was stuck like you, going around and around in circles, thinking I was moving forward when I was just hitting a wall…"

"Save the lecture," he snapped, wondering if he should go back to what he was doing, just to spite the kid and prove he could very well achieve his goals the exact way he had been trying to earlier.

The kid shrugged. "I'm saying that she should be able to help."

"Obviously not much," he retorted, "or you would already have found who you're looking for."

The young man didn't look at him, but Kaiba saw his face darken. "None of that is your business," he said, "And besides, she did help me with that. Put me on the right track. But there's only so much others can do." He shrugged as well as he could while walking on his crutches. "I'm the one who has to find him, after all."

As the young man lead, the cycle of repeating corners fell away. He felt a little relief at this, but still kept up his guard. It could still be a trap, something set up by the stranger to lead him to his demise. At the very least, though, the option was worth trying out. The kid seemed to know his way around.

The young man turned up his head, and opens his mouth. He seemed to be about to say something, but the darkness swallows his words.

* * *

Strangely, he remembered nothing of the walk there, beside a vague impression he and the boy had talked. But he was there, nonetheless.

The old woman, as the kid called her, sat on a bench placed inconveniently in the middle of a street, long gray hair scattered about her face. She made no motion to brush her hair back, but kept her bony hands folded on her lap. As they neared her, he could see the sagginess of her face, the jutting bony-ness of her limbs, and the strange frailty about her composure that made her seem like she'd crumble at any moment.

For a moment he was watching the young man talk to the old woman. He couldn't hear what they said but he saw the movements. The kid shuffled and his expression shifted through his talk, but the woman was as a wax figure, unmoving. Finally, at the end she turned to look at him, and then at Kaiba. She blinks, and her lips moved. The kid slumped, disappointed, but nodded with an expression in his eyes that rings of steel.

The kid left without another word or even a backward glance. The old woman didn't speak but turned her head to him, stiffly. Kaiba stood there for a moment, watching as her dead eyes appraised him.

"The kid says there's something you know," he adds, almost scoffing as he says it, "ma'am."

"'Ma'am,'" the old woman repeats, flicking her eyes away from him. "Ma'am this and ma'am that… the little one says he's not little, so I'm not old. But I'm cold… so cold…"

He blinked, wondering if the woman was senile. Considering all the wrinkles on every showing inch of skin, he wouldn't have been surprised. But before he could comment, she interrupted his thoughts.

"So," she rasped, "The child tells me you want to kill the King of Games."

Kaiba frowned at the use of the title, and the memories it brought back. "He calls himself _that_?"

"The King of Games," the woman mumbled. "Nickname used for an ancient Pharaoh, Atem, due to prowess in the Shadow Games… more recently, a title given to the world champion of Duel Monsters. Yugi Moto." He thought she would continually rambling off like a recorded dictionary, but then she turned and looked Kaiba in the eye. "Yes, it's the title that _he's _taken."

He scowled at the thought.

"The little one said you almost killed him," she said, "He was just here, asking if I'd found the one he's looking for. I told him, I haven't found anything he hasn't already. I haven't. But I wish… I wish I could help with this…." She stared at him unblinkingly.

"None of this is relevant," he snapped impatiently, "What do you know about this 'King of Games'?"

"He's lord here," she said, "He doles out shadow games and penalty games as he sees fit. Which means… that is… 'All are weak,' he says. The games are to root out weakness, punish it. You survive if you can correct your weakness. But it's all there," she coughs, and the sound is that of someone who's lungs have burned, "Every human is weak, corrupt… he's taught us that. The strongest human is more weak than strong. The most virtuous more vicious than they are good. The purest human is more corrupt than clean. The most generous human is pettier than anything else. That's what he teaches."

He frowned, doubting any of this would be helpful. A shiver ran through the woman's stiff body.

"Ah!" she cried, "If only what he said weren't true."

"You going to say anything useful sometime this month?"

"There are no months here. Nor years, nor weeks, nor hours nor minutes… every single human feeling or thought is selfish and shallow. Altruism. Empathy. Even… love," a look of absolute devastation crossed her previously unmoved features. "Tell me, wanderer, who is it that you love?"

"Wanderer?" he asked, wondering where she got that name for him. "What do you mean?"

"Who is the person that brings you light, the one person who makes you happy just by being happy themselves? You'd do anything for them. When you see them, you feel you'd rip out your own heart for them should they need it, so deep and selfless is your affection."

He immediately thought of childish gray eyes and long, messy black hair. His heart contradicted itself, warming and aching simultaneously. "Perhaps I have someone like that, and perhaps I don't."

The old woman's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "No, wanderer," she told him, "The answer is that you don't. No one has anyone like that. No one's love is selfless. Even the deepest human feeling…" she stopped, her voice cracking, "Even the deepest, truest human love is mere playacting. And that's what we do, we play at caring, act that we love enough to truly sacrifice… and the sacrifices we do make are to satiate our own self-righteous vanity." She wrung her stiff, bony hands. "Ah, how foolish we are!"

"Would you shut up and tell me what you know about the man I'm trying to kill?" he snapped, "I'm getting tired of your demented rants."

"Hm," she said, "Everyone here that I've met is here to find someone they thought they loved. And they came to realize the depth of their own folly," she said, and then turned away, mumbling to herself, "And yet, still, I'm here. I'm still… waiting…" she shook her head, and pursed her lips.

"What are you waiting _for?" _He realized it was an idiotic idea to ask right as the words slipped out of his mouth.

"For the one that _I _thought I loved."

He took a minute to wrap his mind around this, and then he sneered. "Really?" he said, "Well, clearly you don't_ love_ anyone. If you actually gave a damn about… whoever, you wouldn't sit and wait, wasting away when you could be _going _to them, you stupid old woman." The old woman flinched. "You wouldn't sit still for a minute. You'd keep on going, keep on trying… but waiting? Letting yourself rot away doing nothing? Please."

She blinked, her eyes widening like someone who'd just had ice cold water poured over their head.

"Now save me your silly projection of your own stupidity onto other people and tell me what I need to know. Unlike you, _I _don't waste time."

She breathed, not looking at him. He goosebumps prickle his spine as he realized she had not been breathing before. Now the sound was all too obvious, a slow, labored intake hat pained his ears

"Waste…time?" she murmured. "Yes… I have been wasting this time… haven't I? …so silly. Silly girl." She stood up, shakily, and turned to him, looking him directly in the eyes. He found himself drawing back slightly, taken aback by a sudden emergence of strength behind her feebleness.

"You want to kill him," she said in a voice fit for an oracle, "That's why you carry that gun around. You've tried shooting him with it. It didn't work. But still, you keep trying, instead of thinking and finding some other way. He's told you this, but you refuse to listen."

He scoffed.

"You'll need to put down your weapon to face him."

"Really?" he said, crossing his arms. "Funny, he told me the same thing. You passing on messages?"

She stared at him quietly for a minute, and a light suddenly came into her eyes. "Oh, _you. _I know you. You're… you." A ghost of a smile graced her withered lips.

He scowled. "Stop it with the half-senile riddles. Are you passing on messages for _him?"_

"No," she replied, shaking her head sadly, "I just know from experience. You cannot play him except on his own terms. Even if you challenge, he picks the game, or the game does not happen. This is simply how it must be. If you win, you may kill him, but not before."

"And how am I supposed to beat him if he decides the rules?"

"If your heart is strong, your will is pure, and your eyes do not look away from the truth, then you can win. That is what a shadow game is, after all… a test of one soul against another. That is all that is measured."

"Hmph," he said. "And how do I know you're telling the truth?"

She shrugged, "Oh, of course _you _would ask that. It doesn't matter. Believe me if you will… I cannot force you otherwise." She turned away, and started hobbling off, wincing every moment as though she were stepping on knives. For a moment she wavered, breathing heavily, but continued on.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to… stop wasting time," she replied, not turning back.

"That's is? That's all you know?" he shouted after her, "That useless information?!"

"Ask the others when you meet them," she rasped at him, her voice containing all the smugness of an elder lecturing a child. She stopped. "Oh, and the child?"

"What?" he growled.

"The child. The one who brought you here," she said, raising her volume but not turning back. "If you see him, tell him… I hope he finds his brother."

She disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

He remembered some of what the young man on crutches had said to him later, as he was walking down the street, still clutching his gun. Or at least, some of it. It seemed to seep into his mind out of the darkness.

"…had to get through the shadows. Part of the Penalty Game, for coming here. He gives everyone who comes here a 'game.' It makes you doubt everything, brings up parts of yourself that you don't want to see. Things that are weak, shameful… silly and embarrassing or sometimes terrifying." The kid frowned deeply. "I almost gave up."

"Hmph."

"You haven't gotten one yet, have you? A Penalty Game?"

"No, and I don't plan to," he snapped.

The kid nodded. "I figured. That's probably why you're an asshole. And you growl at everyone like… like you're a beaten dog whose cage is being rattled with sticks."

"Excuse me?"

The kid smiled. "Everyone else here… they've all changed, and they're all nicer than you. It's… hard to stay arrogant when you go through one of the games. I…"

Whatever he was going to say, and whatever remark Kaiba was going to snap back was cut off by a shriek: the same one that he had heard before upon waking. The powerful noise seemed to cut through the silence and slice right through their words. They both stopped, listening until it died away into complete silence.

"What was that?" he asked the young man.

"I wish I knew," he said, "I've never even heard it before. Maybe…"

But the rest of the conversation was gone from his mind.

* * *

When he finally met the stranger again, he was against the entrance of what looked like an abandoned warehouse. The place was oddly complete, besides the detail of all its walls being shredded nearly to bits, and scraps of its metal lying around on the floor.

"You've been talking to the others. Did you make any friends?" the stranger taunted, his arms crossed.

"Pfft."

"I thought not. Are you ready?"

He looked the stranger in the eye. A thousand different possibilities of what he could do flashed through his mind, most of which involved trying to shoot his adversary at some point. He was surprised at which option he picked himself.

The ammo dropped from his gun into the dirt, and he tossed the now-useless scrap of metal away. The clang it made sent a jolt of fear through him. It was a stupid decision, he decided. How could he have listened to that half-senile old woman? Still, the die was cast, so he clenched his fist and focused on calming his face, even if his heart raced unbidden.

The stranger shoved of the warehouse, unfolding his arms and sporting the eeriest grin Kaiba had ever seen on that face. In a moment, he had pulled out a card deck.

"Now then," the stranger asked, "Shall we play a game?"

* * *

**I actually, for once, do not have much to say here... I guess I'd like to know what you think of the new characters, since they'll be important later. They won't be a major focus, but they will reappear and have an affect on the plot. There will also be a few other minor characters showing up.**

**Hope you enjoyed, sorry if there was a drop in quality, and please review!**


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